light. He bent down over the broken hearth-stone to see if the moonlight
falling through the storied window had in any way deceived him. Then
with a groan of anguish he sank to his knees.

There, sure enough, through the crack in the broken stone were
protruding a multitude of threads of golden hair just tinged with grey!

He was disturbed by a noise at the door, and looking round, saw his wife
standing in the doorway. In the desperation of the moment he took action
to prevent discovery, and lighting a match at the lamp, stooped down and
burned away the hair that rose through the broken stone. Then rising
nonchalantly as he could, he pretended surprise at seeing his wife
beside him.

For the next week he lived in an agony; for, whether by accident or
design, he could not find himself alone in the hall for any length of
time. At each visit the hair had grown afresh through the crack, and he
had to watch it carefully lest his terrible secret should be discovered.
He tried to find a receptacle for the body of the murdered woman outside
the house, but someone always interrupted him; and once, when he was
coming out of the private doorway, he was met by his wife, who began to
question him about it, and manifested surprise that she should not have
before noticed the key which he now reluctantly showed her. Geoffrey
dearly and passionately loved his wife, so that any possibility of her
discovering his dread secrets, or even of doubting him, filled him with
anguish; and after a couple of days had passed, he could not help coming
to the conclusion that, at least, she suspected something.

That very evening she came into the hall after her drive and found him
there sitting moodily by the deserted fireplace. She spoke to him